Being Your Beloved
by claire.elizabeth2
Summary: My name is Eponine Thenardier. Rotten name, I know. My parents were French or something. Frankly, I couldn't give a shit. I haven't seen those two people since the day I turned 18, the day I could finally leave the hellish nightmare that was my childhood behind and let my life actually begin. And thank god it did. Modern Les Mis AU (warning: language)
1. Prologue

**A/N: Yo I don't own les mis. **

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My name is Eponine Thenardier. Rotten name, I know. My parents were French or something. Frankly, I couldn't give a shit. I haven't seen those two people since the day I turned 18, the day I could finally leave the hellish nightmare that was my childhood behind and let my life actually begin. And thank god it did.

Oftentimes I try to imagine what would have happened if I had never left. I sit, and I physically take the time to try and picture myself in my old life. Sometimes the scenes play in my head like a movie, some grimy cassette film from the 90's, but the final scene is never pretty. I usually end up dead or in jail. It sounds extreme, I know, but the fact is that my life was shit. Complete and utter shit, and I thank whoever is sitting up there that I got out while I did. My sister hasn't been so lucky, but I like to think that there's always time. Time to get her out too.

But this all sounds so impossibly heavy and daft and depressing. I'm quite happy now. Really, I am. My life is… well, it's the closest to perfect it's ever been before. People like me, we don't get lucky. We have to fight for every scrap life is willing to throw at us. And I've been fighting for a long time. I can appreciate, now more then ever, the chance to sit back and _breathe_ for once in my goddamn life, and know that I'm safe, I'm happy, and I'm with people who love me. I'll never take that for granted.

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**So, new story time. This is just a prologue, but the rest of the story is coming. I'm just testing the waters here. This will be a modern les mis AU, E/E, and i hope everyone likes it. Please review, because it makes the story better in the end! thanks all**

**-c**


	2. 6 Months Earlier

**I Don't own the characters from Les Mis. The story is my own. **

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_6 Months Earlier:_

"Eponine wait! God, come back!"

"Just leave me the fuck alone," I spat over my shoulder while trying to go down stairs as quickly as possible. After storming down 3 floors already, I was starting to huff a little, and when I tripped on the last stair before a landing I cursed again and stumbled. But slowing my pace allowed my sister to catch up with me. I noticed almost smugly that she was out of breath too.

"Jeez, Ponine, just wait a sec," she panted. A shot her a look and tried to speed up again. We sort of stomped along together down another flight of steps before she grabbed by arm at the next landing.

"Eponine!" Her shout made me finally stop. I took a breath and decided to let her say whatever is was she had come up with. I knew after what had just happened that she would try to calm me down or something. She barely had a mind of her own, but I figured I at least owed her a chance.

"Eponine," Azelma repeated again. "Please wait, don't go. I… I don't… you know he didn't mean it, he never does!" her voice rose to a shout again. I guess she ruined her chance, and I only raised my eyebrows.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm just saying, you can't blame him when he gets angry, or –"

" Or when he's been drinking, or when he's had a bad day, yeah I get it," I cut in, and turned to begin going down the final flight of steps. Our apartment was on the 5th floor of a dank, ugly building in North Philadelphia, a building filled with dank, ugly tenants much like my family and myself. Azelma caught up with me at the door that led to the street, latching onto my arm again. I allowed her to tug me around to face her. She looked up at me expectantly.

"Hey, your face doesn't even look that bad, I promise," she assured me. I made a noncommittal noise in the back of my throat.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks for the reassurance." She winced a little. I might need to cut back on the sarcasm in situations like these.

"Listen, Azelma, I know this is hard for you to hear, but we can't stay with them forever. Him, and mom, they aren't good people. _I_ can't stay with them. Fathers aren't meant to hit their children. Why can't you see that," I tried to explain, but she only shook her head at me.

"He didn't mean to hit you, I know it. He cares about you. He cares about both of us. I know he doesn't mean to hurt us, but sometimes he just gets so angry. He's under a lot of stress, but he never means to hurt us." She looked so earnest, so trusting, that I could only laugh at her.

"Oh my god, Azelma, listen to yourself. You can't actually believe that. I knew you were delusional, but come on. That is all bullshit and you know it." Her face hardened.

"So what, then, you're going to leave? Just like that?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm gonna leave. Now, preferably," I said, and turned toward the door again.

"Coward."

I heard her say it, heard her _spit it out_, and it hurt. Like, really hurt. It hurt more than my throbbing face where I was sure a black eye was forming. I was quite familiar with the pain that came from the back of my father's hand, but this was a new pain. I sat there for a minute with my hands pressed up against the cracked glass of the door before turning around to look at her. Her small fists were all balled up, and she looked like she was almost about to cry. I forget, sometimes, that she's just a kid. Sure, I had grown up pretty quickly by the time _I_ was 15, but I had hoped my kid sister wouldn't have had to experience things the same way I had. But she was growing up too fast anyway. God, this was probably all my fault.

"Azelma, I –"

"No, you are a coward," she cut in. "You're a coward and you know it. You act all sore and wounded when he beats up on you, but you don't even stand up to him. You make a big show after he leaves, about how stupid he is, and what a terrible person he is, but you never do anything about it." A tear slipped out over her cheek, and my throat closed up. I wanted to say something but she kept going. "And you yell at me for being weak and loving them, but they're our parents! And if they're acting all wrong, and treating us badly like you say they are, then why don't you ever do anything about it? You let us both get hurt, by acting out all the time and being a pain in the ass. Maybe this is all your fault, ever think of that?"

Her words hit me like a punch to the stomach, and I felt literally nauseous from the affect. I never even knew she was thinking all of this. I had always thought that she was just this carefree kid. I guess it was stupid to think that I was the only one with problems, but still.

She had always been so obedient and compliant. Where I had always been resistant, she was submissive to my parents' orders, and in all truth I thought her less because of it. But she was right. Who was I to judge her for her attitude where mine was what usually got us into trouble.

Looking at her now, I could see that I was losing her. Her normally benign eyes were guarded and cold, the dark brown almost black in the fluorescent lighting of the lobby.

"You're right," I said quietly. She narrowed her eyes at me. "No, you are. I don't stand up to him. I… I don't know how. He's my father, and I'm ashamed to say that I feel powerless against him. How fucked up is that, when a kid is terrified of her father." I let out a bitter laugh.

"But don't you see how wrong that is? I know we don't have any money, and people get murdered and shit outside of our building, and we live a pretty messed up life, but at least we should have parents at home that don't scare us. I don't even remember what pissed him off so much today."

"Does it matter?" she said. "It was something _you_ did."

"Yeah, but Azelma that's not the point. The point is that it was something I did today, but it could be something you do tomorrow, and then we're both left with black eyes."

"It doesn't mean you should give up."

"Maybe this isn't me giving up. Maybe this is my way of standing up to him, finally, like you want. If I leave, maybe I'll prove to him that he doesn't own me, that I'm not his."

"So you're really leaving? Leaving for real?" her voice was barely a whisper.

"I think so, Azelma. I know now that I can't stay, not even for one more day. I can't stand ever facing that retched man again, not ever."

"So you're leaving me alone with him." I winced.

"You'll have mom…" I tried lamely. She glared at me.

"Yeah, next time she's sober I'll ask her for some help."

"Or," I said, "You could come with me. We could get out of here together." She laughed openly at this, a harsh mocking laugh.

"And what, drop out of school? Yeah, that'll set me on a great track record for life. Not all of us have graduated yet, unless you've forgotten." She looked away from me and picked at her nails. And uncomfortable silence stretched out and I wanted to scream. Hoping she would say something else, but knowing she was through, I finally sighed.

"So what now?" She looked up at me again.

"You leave. Now, preferably." She used my own words from earlier against me.

"Azelma – "

"Just don't, Eponine." She looked me dead in the eyes and my heart broke. I fidgeted under her gaze.

"I uh, I'll be back to get my stuff tonight," I said, and she gave me one last disappointed look before turning towards the stairs again. She started climbing without looking back, and I watched her until she was out of sight.

"Fuck," I sighed, but eventually pushed open the door to the street and headed out. God only knows what I was going to do after this. Azelma or no, I was leaving. I was getting out of this shit hole today.

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**A/N: i don't really know what to write here, but it feels necessary. Just bear with me, i promise we will meet other characters soon. have faith, children. Please review! reviews are like winning more than $2 on a scratch off lottery ticket. money!**

**-c**


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